


tied with a ribbon

by angelatflightrisk



Category: Monster Prom (Visual Novel)
Genre: Costume Party, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Porn What Plot, damien gets veeeeery very sweet and soft, damien has a housewife kink, either not linear w corners of his heart or set after, oz in a dress, self indulgent porn, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 12:50:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17488358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelatflightrisk/pseuds/angelatflightrisk
Summary: “It’s for that costume party. Liam’s vintage themed thing? The one that’s tonight?”





	tied with a ribbon

“Ozzie.”

“ _Hm?_ ”

“What the hell are you wearing?”

Oz looks over his shoulder, a shivering chill going through him at the sight of Damien in the open doorway, his jaw dropped a little, his face flushed. Oz turns to face him, the skirt of his dress following his movement, and Damien grips the doorknob a little tighter.

“ _What, you don’t like it?_ ”

  
It’s a pretty dress. Damien closes the door behind him, finally, taking a few steps into the living room, and in response Oz takes a few teasing steps backwards. The dress is sunshiney, lemony yellow, thin straps and a sweetheart neckline lined with lace. The white polka-dotted fabric hugs his tiny waist perfectly, flaring out into a fluffy, petticoated skirt at his hips. A cute beige cardigan sits over the dress, and along with his lacey white stockings, he’s wearing pretty heels.

He is the epitome of vintage housewife, and the way Damien is staring at him makes his heart beat fast.

“ _It’s--_ ” Oz says softly, and Damien looks up at his eyes for the first time, “ _It’s for that costume party. Liam’s vintage themed thing? The one that’s tonight?_ ”

  
“Vintage themed thing?” Damien repeats, dumbly, his eyes drifting back down to Oz’s waist, where the dress hugs him tightly, and then he seems to snap out of it all at once, “Oh-- yeah. Uh, why a dress though?”

“ _Because it’s cute?_ ” Oz feels his shoulders rise, anxiously, and he fiddles with the bow at his neckline, “ _Um… unless you actually don’t like it._ ”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Damien breathes, and in an instant he’s torn off his coat and thrown it onto the couch. He comes forward, crossing the room so quickly, and Oz takes an instinctive step backwards, and laughs when his boyfriend takes him by his waist and pulls him close.

“I love it,” Damien proclaims, and Oz flushes bright, feeling electric under his skin, his shoulders pulling up, his hands pressing to Damien’s chest, trying to balance on the heels.

  
“ _Um-- I’m so glad._ ”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I really wanna watch you wash dishes?”

Oz blinks once, twice, and then tilts his head, confused, “ _Wash dishes…?_ ”

“Yeah.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Like, I don’t know? I’m just fucking loving my mental image of you in that pretty dress all bent over the counter--”

“ _Damien_ ,” Oz pulls back slightly to look at him, and Damien looks down, still looking a little dreamy in his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“ _Do you have a housewife kink?_ ”

Damien stares at him, and then slowly his face turns red, and Oz feels his heart swell as he laughs, “ _You totally do!_ ”

Damien huffs, letting go of Oz’s waist and storming into the kitchen. Oz feels absolutely giddy, giggling, leaning down to smooth his dress, “ _You know, you still need to get dressed!_ ”

  
“Fuck that, I’m just wearing this,” Damien calls from the kitchen, “I don’t know how to dress vintage. Besides, you’re definitely going to outshine me no matter what I wear, you look so fucking good in that.”

“ _Well, lucky for you, Vera already got you something,_ ” Oz’s heels click on the wood floor as he crosses to poke his head around the corner and into the kitchen, curls spilling as he tilts his head, “ _It’s on our bed. Go get dressed._ ”

Damien rolls his eyes, “Okay, mom,” and then turns and disappears down the hallway. Oz comes into the kitchen, leans a little up against the counter.

Damien’s going to take a while, just because he cares so much about his hair. His bored gaze rolls over the kitchen, idly searching for something to occupy himself with to fill the awkward amount of time.

Oz literally never uses dishes, because he doesn’t eat. So he wonders, sometimes, how so many dishes manage to pile up in their sink. His gaze flickers down the hall, sees the door still closed, and then his heels click as he approaches the sink, blushing. He shrugs out of his cardigan, carefully setting it aside, and then he turns around, scanning the kitchen until he sees what he needs. He sets the step-stool in front of the sink, and steps onto it. After shifting his weight to test it, and make sure he wouldn’t fall and knock himself out, he bends over and starts running the water.

 

About a half an hour later Damien steps out of the bedroom, fidgeting with the leather jacket. His footsteps trail heavy down the hallway, his gaze downwards as he steps into the kitchen.

“You know, I don’t actually hate this?" He calls, his voice proceeding him, "I didn’t know greasers counted as vintage, otherwise I would ha--”

His steps stop abruptly as he looks up, and he dizzily takes in the sight in front of him.

Oz glances over his shoulder, his pretty curls bouncing with his movement, the petticoat swaying slightly. The soft afternoon sunshine comes in through the window, and Oz reflects no light, being made of shadows, but his pretty lemon dress does, and Oz looks beautifully washed in sunshine. He is bent at the waist, his legs straight, his hands braced on the kitchen counter, the sink overflowing with bubbles.

Oz’s eyes flicker over his boyfriend, taking in his outfit, the leather jacket and the slicked back hair.

“ _Wow_ ,” He says, his voice pretty, “ _You look really good_.”

“Like Hell,” Damien growls, suddenly not caring at _all_ about his outfit, about literally anything except the immaculate boy in front of him, crossing the room and coming up behind his lover. Oz braces his hands on the counter, and Damien sees him twitch slightly with anticipation, with nervousness.

Damien’s hands hover over his skirt, and he can see up it so easily, the adorable curve of his tight little ass, the growing spot of ink blotting his pretty white panties.

“Holy fuck, you’re beautiful,” Damien breathes, and his hands move to hold Oz’s hips under his skirt. Damien’s thumbs pull at his ass, watching it, and he mumbles in something of a trance, “You’re so wet.”

Oz’s back arches a little more as Damien reaches forward and pulls his underwear carefully away, and then the demon lightly presses his middle finger to the boy’s entrance, his heart beating hard at the slickness there.

“ _Ahh-- Damien--_ ”

“Does that feel good?” His voice is so sweet, so, so much sweeter than he usually is, feeling butterflies inside him, feeling like every fiber of his being died and was replaced with sugar.

He presses two fingers inside of Oz and holds his waist with his free hand, and he leans forward to press little kisses to Oz’s bare shoulders. The fear monster gasps, whining, pushing back into his hand and tilting his head to accommodate for the kisses trailing over his shoulder and his neck.

“ _Damien-- Oh my--_ ”

Damien arches his fingers into Oz’s sweet spot, and the boy gasps under his touch before the prince pulls away, and his fingers leave him. His boyfriend whines, dropping to his forearms on the counter, his back arching, apparently agitated at the emptiness. It’s an adorable sight, and never in Damien’s life has he wanted more to protect this boy, to pleasure him.

Damien groans so softly, squeezing his waist, “Relax, I’m not done with you.”

“ _Promise?_ ” Oz’s voice comes pretty, and Damien falls to his knees to press his face up between his legs from behind him. Oz gasps, and then moans, his back arching as he pushes back into the affection. Damien’s hands run along his legs, squeezing, loving the feel of them as his tongue traces Oz’s soft folds, as it presses into his entrance. Oz comes apart, at his seams, all at once, his legs shaking under Damien’s hands.

“ _Fuck-- Damien--_ ”

Damien has no clue what it is about this situation that makes him feel so soft, but he does anyway.

Oz is writhing, gasping for air, gripping the counter tightly, his face blazing. Damien’s skin is so warm, where his hands run along his legs, where his mouth works between his legs. Damien is always hot, firey, burning up, blazing with heat, and Oz adores the feel of being destroyed by him, consumed by hellfire.

But this is so much different. Damien is so often intense, firey, and now he is more like a hearth. He is so warm, and so comfortable, and so sweet, and while usually around this time Oz would be cross-eyed and screaming with pleasure and pain and pure unadulterated desire-- the gentleness, the sweetness, all of it is so soft as it envelops him, so slow, so deliberate, so loving.

“ _Damien?_ ” Oz gasps, his voice soft. Damien kisses his thigh, so soft, and then the other one, just a touch of warmth, like a cup of tea.

“I love you, baby,” Damien says, his voice low and smooth and sweet, and Oz melts, his knees a little weak as Damien comes up and takes him by his waist, lifts him down from the stool. Oz makes a small, confused sound before Damien spins him and places him on the counter behind them, his petticoat fluffing out as he does. Oz holds onto Damien’s shoulders as his boyfriend fits himself between his legs, which wrap around his waist. Damien comes forward to kiss his neck, so warm and sweet.

“I love you,” He repeats in that same tone, and Oz falls into him a little more, heart swelling at the pleasure between his legs when Damien presses his fingers so gently back inside him.

“ _I love you too_ ,” Oz says, out of breath, his head spinning, “ _Are-- are you okay?_ ”

“Never better, beautiful,” Damien’s hand moves to hold his waist, squeezing, and Oz melts completely. His hands move to his belt and remove it, and then he unzips his jeans and his cock springs loose, hard and leaking and demonically big as always.

“ _Oh, oh hell. Damien, please_ ,” Oz moans, the curve of his heels pressing into Damien’s back where his ankles cross over each other, tightening his grip around his neck, “ _Please, I need you_.”

“Shh, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Damien practically purrs, and his head presses right up to Oz’s little entrance and pushes inside so sweet and slow and soft. It’s unnerving, almost. Oz is so used to Damien pushing his cock inside Oz hard and fast and all at once, burning up and hungry, making Oz scream loud enough to shatter the sky. Instead, the absurdly big cock on his absurdly sexy boyfriend slips inside him slowly, sweetly, without a touch of roughness, so gentle.

“ _Mm_ ,” Oz moans, because despite his confusion, despite the gentleness, Damien LaVey is amazingly big, and it never ceases to amaze him, “ _It hurts._ ”

He says that nearly every time, because it’s true. It hurts so much, taking such a giant thing inside such a tiny frame. Damien always grins, bites at his neck, growls, “ _I know. You love it._ ”

This time, Damien squeezes his little waist, presses the softest kiss to his chest, along the lacy hem of his neckline, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll be gentle.”

Oz is thoroughly confused. He considers it for another moment, before making the executive decision to just… enjoy it? He whines as Damien’s cock presses right up to his little cervix, his hips pressed flush up to Oz.

“ _Damien_ …”

“You’re so beautiful, doll,” Damien coos, and his hips move slow, sweet, and yet it’s still so delicious, and Oz wonders how they’ve never done it like this before. His head falls onto Damien’s shoulder, and he gives himself completely to this endeavor.

 

“ _So_ …” Oz watches Damien’s face as he looks up at him from the floor, his hands braced on the demon’s strong shoulders as he steps into the panties and lets his boyfriend pull them up onto him, “... _What was that?_ ”

“What do you mean?”

Oz gives him a look, and Damien blushes, looking away, idly touching at his hair. Oz turns slightly to gather his cardigan from the counter, waiting for a response.

“I don’t know? I just… Hell, I can’t explain it. Did you not like it?”

“ _It was very, very cute,_ ” Oz tells him, coming back over, placing his hands on his boyfriend’s chest, “ _Just so, so unexpected. Like, really not what I was expecting when I put on a cute dress and bent over a counter._ ”

“Yeah,” Damien offers a nervous grin, and it is so unbearably adorable, “I… I have no excuse. I just really, really felt the need.”

“ _Well, it was very sweet_ ,” Oz smiles, “ _...We should do that more often. Maybe without the dress and the counter._ ”

“Aw, Ozzie,” Damien’s voice is sweet, and Oz laughs as he’s pulled closer and a kiss is pressed to his hair, “Did I turn you all romantic? I’ll come home with candles and roses sometime this week, would you like that?”

  
“ _Don’t make fun of me,_ ” Oz moans around a laugh, and Damien pulls back to look at him, smiling.

“I’m not, really. I do love you, you know that. I hope you do, anyway.”

“ _Of course I do._ ”

“I know we don’t really do the whole making love thing a lot, but I’d… I dunno, I’d like to?”

Where has that been all Damien’s life? Oz wonders how many fires could have been stopped if someone had just made love to this poor lonely boy a few times, because in an instant his boyfriend is sweeter and softer and more mellowed than Oz has ever seen him.

“ _I’d like that,_ ” Oz tilts his head, and Damien pulls him forward and kisses his neck.

They are so damn late to Liam’s stupid party.


End file.
